Disclaimer: All Star Trek related characters and concepts belong to
Paramount; all Lord of the Rings related characters and concepts belong to
J.R.R. Tolkien. I am merely borrowing them.
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THE SHADOW RIDERS
Chapter Nine: A Shadow and a Threat
"Concerning this thing, my lords, you now all know enough for the understanding of our plight, and of Sauron's. If he regains it, your valour is vain, and his victory will be swift and complete: so complete that none can foresee the end of it while this world lasts. If it is destroyed, then he will fall; and his fall will be so low that none can foresee his arising ever again. For he will lose the best part of the strength that was native to him in his beginning, and all that was made or begun with that power will crumble, and he will be maimed for ever, becoming a mere spirit of malice that gnaws itself in the shadows, but cannot again grow or take shape." ~J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings
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Hoshi sat next to Éowyn, staring into space as the thunder of the battle pounded away outside. "We should have gone through the tunnel earlier," said the king's niece in a low voice, wringing her hands. "Perhaps we would have stood a better chance of escape. We will be trapped in this cavern, Uruk-hai behind us and before us."
"You will upset the people," said Hoshi dully. For a moment she was rather surprised to hear her own voice, because it did not feel as if it had been she herself who spoke. Yet the feeling passed away as quickly as it had come, and she sank back into her stupor.
Éowyn looked at her, startled. "Here we are now!" she said in surprise. "Not a word all night, you with such a gift for tongues! What ails you, my friend?"
"Nothing," said Hoshi. "I am as well as can be expected, thank you." Again she felt the odd sensation of someone else speaking through her mouth, but she did not question it.
Éowyn sighed, a long, heavy breath that seemed too weary to have come from one so young. "Hoshi... please tell me what is wrong. Malcolm is worried, I am worried... you walk as though you are in a dream, like the world around you is not real."
With a great effort Hoshi spoke, without the feeling of otherness touching her voice this time. "I want to go home," she said simply, and never had such simple words been so difficult to say. Éowyn's eyes filled with tears.
"I know, dear," she said, putting her arms around Hoshi and hugging tightly. "I would like to go home, too. I know you mean your ship, but Edoras is my home and I miss it. We all miss it." She wept softly, hiding it from the frightened people around them, and her tears stained Hoshi's shirt.
Hoshi let her cry, neither weeping herself nor returning the embrace, and simply sat like a stone. At length Éowyn stopped, wiping her eyes with a corner of her sleeve; she had shed but a few tears, really, and the only sign of her fear was a slight shine in her eyes and her red cheeks. The old women cried out as a particularly loud boom shook the cave, and Éowyn went to assist them, leaving Hoshi alone at the back of the cavern.
:My dear, I have found a way to return you to your home.:
"You have?" whispered Hoshi, mindful of the people around her, though she doubted they heard; everyone was much too engaged in listening to the noises of the battle outside.
:I have. But it will be a very long journey, my dear Hoshi, so I must ask you to trust me implicitly.:
"I do," murmured Hoshi.
:There's a good child. Now you must leave the Rohan behind, for they try to conceal this way from you. They do not want you to leave. Behind you is a tunnel that leads out into the mountains. My servants will meet you there to assist you.:
Hoshi stood up and slipped away from her seat, tiptoeing over the cold stone floor of the cave. A tunnel... ah, there. Yes, a tunnel, there.
:It is straight and narrow, and there are no turns. You do not need a torch.:
She nodded and went into the darkness, keeping one finger on the wall. Something niggled at the back of her mind, but she could not recall what it could be, so she went on into the black tunnel. The light from the big cavern dimmed and finally disappeared altogether, and yet she walked still. The floor was rough and uneven, and she fell at times, but her friend had spoken truth: there were no side passages or bends to get lost in, and each time she fell, she picked herself up and went on.
For an endless time she traveled through the darkness, until she wondered if she had really ever seen light or if it was simply a strange dream that somewhere out there an entire world existed. The black night was complete.
But finally a pinpoint of light shone far ahead of her. She had to squint to make it out but as it grew steadily larger, she realized that it was indeed the end of the tunnel. It grew bigger and bigger as she walked, until suddenly she was out of the tunnel, stepping onto a rocky field where a group of Uruk-hai awaited her, hulking figures in the dim morning light. Her mind screamed at her to run, flee, do anything to get away, but her limbs would not respond.
:These are my servants,: said the voice in her head. :They will not harm you.:
:You have done well,: said another voice. :I will help you from here, child.:
Three of the Uruk-hai, their faces emblazoned with a gleaming white hand, jerked their heads up to stare at the other five, who had a red eye painted on their crudely-made armor. What was that red eye? It looked very menacing, and again Hoshi felt that there was something she had once known about it and could no longer recall. She did not even flinch as the Uruk- hai of the red eye charged the others, and ripped their enemies to shreds before her.
:You and I have much to speak of,: said the second voice. Red sparks flashed in her mind, and a great lidless eye, wreathed in flame, burned behind her eyelids. In her gut Hoshi quivered with terror but could do nothing. :The white wizard has done enough for you, but I am the only one who may help you now. You may call me Annatar, my dear. Go with the Uruk- hai. They will bring you to me.:
A feeling of warmth swept over Hoshi, and all her questions flooded from her mind. The biggest of the Uruk-hai, his lips bloody from the recent feast, swept her up and over his shoulder. Off they trotted, going east towards the part of the sky that never grew dark, though the sun's rays swept up from the east. First light of the day, it was, and yet it could not win over the shadow.
******************
Morning light broke over the ruins with a glorious blaze of white sunshine through the high, narrow windows. Archer yawned and stretched, briefly wondering where he was and then sighing as it all came flooding back. At least the rain was gone. He stood, careful not to wake any of the sleeping away team, and padded outside.
As he stood at the edge of the high tower, simply looking out at the breathtaking vista, he blinked furiously, trying to clear the dust from his eyes. Below him a thousand shadows danced at the corners of his eyes, granting him glimpses of men on horses fighting things he had no name for but monster. When he looked at them straight on, though, they vanished into nothingness, leaving him alone on the top of the battlements.
Archer sighed. As soon as he found his officers, they were getting off this screwy planet and staying off it. No more shore leave, they were just leaving. A nice long sleep in his own bed, back on ship, would be far more relaxing than this place. His nerves were already frazzled well beyond acceptable levels, and he was sure his blood pressure would get him a nice lecture from the doctor when they got back.
If he had thought his stress level was high before, it was nothing compared to the shock he got when he turned around.
"Malcolm!" he shouted, dashing forward and dropping to his knees next to the bloody, battered form of his armory officer. Blood, blood everywhere, pooled around a deep wound in the lieutenant's chest; Archer moved to try and stem the gush and frowned when his fingers met nothing but air. He waved his hand once, twice, three times over Malcolm's chest, and each time it went right through the man's chest. "What in hell?" whispered the captain, rocking back on his heels. "I'm delusional. I'm dreaming." He stared at Reed's dead body, face far too pale and chest completely still save for the now-sluggish trickle of blood. What on earth was the lieutenant wearing? Chain mail? He waved his hand through Reed's chest once more, irrationally hoping somehow that the lieutenant would solidify and then maybe magically reanimate himself.
To his very great surprise one of his wishes came true. With a great gasp Reed's chest heaved and his mouth opened, a gush of blood pouring out to join the other stains on his torso. Archer, too shocked to think, simply stood and watched as the lieutenant's eyes fluttered and color returned to his face. One pale hand twitched, and then slowly dragged itself across an expanse of chest, probing the large hole in the chain mail, beneath which there had been a deep hole in flesh but a moment ago.
"Well, that's a nasty thing," whispered Reed, clenching his jaw. "Bloody hell."
"Malcolm?" said Archer, wanting to say something else but afraid that he would only gibber in shock if he tried, "Malcolm? What the hell?" Whoops. Failed at that.
Reed's eyes widened and he struggled to sit up, gazing in utter bemusement at his captain. "Sir!" he gasped, going pale. "Captain Archer!" He looked around, eyes touching on things which remained invisible to the captain's eyes, and then back at the man kneeling next to him. "I can see right through you, Captain," whispered the lieutenant. "What are you? A dream? I should be dead... I was dead. I felt it go right through me, sir... And such things I saw..."
He stared down at his hands, clenched in his lap, and then looked back at the captain. Archer did not like the look he saw in Reed's eyes---something was different about the man. He was not the armory officer he had been two days ago, and though Archer could not know it, he was not even the man whose eyes Aragorn had gently closed a world away.
"Malcolm, stay here. Trip's here, we'll get you out of this fix and you can tell us everything that's happened to you," said Archer firmly, desperately. "That's an order, Lieutenant."
"Oh, it is an order, Captain," said Reed, standing up. "And one which I would obey."
"Trip!" shouted Archer. "Trip, get out here right now!"
Reed's blue eyes twinkled with a merriness Archer had only a few times ever seen in them, and never to such a degree. Trip, hair mussed and rubbing sleep from his eyes, stumbled quickly from the doorway of their night's sanctuary and stopped dead, staring at the translucent figure before him. "Malcolm?" he asked incredulously, voice heavy with fear and incomprehension. "My God, what's happened to you, buddy?"
What had happened to him? Archer wanted desperately to ask but his lips and tongue were dry; the words simply would not come. Reed smiled at them both, a kindly smile that looked out of place on him---it was a smile that the old, fierce Malcolm would never have let cross his face.
"I have not lived long enough to remember what I know," said Malcolm softly. "And I have lived too long to remember all that I have done." He stood looking at them, and it seemed to their eyes that he grew paler in the morning sunlight. Sunlight shone through his face, casting him away into eternity; light as a swan's feather he was, and if he should fall, he would float upon the wind.
"My place is, for the moment, no longer with you, my friends," Reed said, a touch of sadness coloring his voice. "I become something that I am not, yet have always been. I ride in the shadow of the great deeds that must be done, of the great ones who must come into their power now."
Into thin air he faded, drifting out of their sight, until only his voice remained to reach their ears. Trip and Archer stood mesmerized as the wind eddied around them. "I have been sent back---for a brief time, until my task is done, my friends. Faint to my ears comes the gathered rumor of all lands: the springing and the dying, the song and the weeping, and the slow everlasting groan of overburdened stone. And so I pass away from you, my friends... Look to the Black Tower, for there shall be my reckoning and the pivot upon which this war shall turn."
And he was gone.
"What in the hell just happened?" murmured Trip after a very long moment of stunned silence.
"If I knew I'd tell you," replied Archer, still staring at the paving stones where his armory officer had vanished before his eyes. "The one thing I understood in all of that was that he was going to a Black Tower."
"And what does that mean?" grumbled Tucker. "Seems just as mystifying as the rest of it, Jon!"
Archer shook his head slowly. "No," he said, and went back into the room where the security officers were putting together a make-shift breakfast from ready-to-eat rations. Trip followed him as he picked his way through their sleeping bags and their packs to the pile of papers laying just beyond Archer's own knapsack. He sifted through the papers until he found the unreadable map, with such a careful drawing of the fortress they currently occupied on it.
"Look," he said, gently running his finger over the ancient paper, "the Black Tower."
Sketched in miniature, a fearsome tower rose from the foothills inside a curiously rectangular mountain range, a foreboding little drawing with a great eye sketched at the apex of the black spire.
"The Black Tower," said Trip, staring in awe over Archer's shoulder.
Archer replied, "The Black Tower indeed."
***********************
Well....I was tempted to be cruel and leave this part until next chapter but then this one would have been too short. What's in store for our intrepid armory officer? Keep reading... I know...and you might, too, if you're clever enough to read the signs.
************************
THE SHADOW RIDERS
Chapter Nine: A Shadow and a Threat
"Concerning this thing, my lords, you now all know enough for the understanding of our plight, and of Sauron's. If he regains it, your valour is vain, and his victory will be swift and complete: so complete that none can foresee the end of it while this world lasts. If it is destroyed, then he will fall; and his fall will be so low that none can foresee his arising ever again. For he will lose the best part of the strength that was native to him in his beginning, and all that was made or begun with that power will crumble, and he will be maimed for ever, becoming a mere spirit of malice that gnaws itself in the shadows, but cannot again grow or take shape." ~J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings
************************
Hoshi sat next to Éowyn, staring into space as the thunder of the battle pounded away outside. "We should have gone through the tunnel earlier," said the king's niece in a low voice, wringing her hands. "Perhaps we would have stood a better chance of escape. We will be trapped in this cavern, Uruk-hai behind us and before us."
"You will upset the people," said Hoshi dully. For a moment she was rather surprised to hear her own voice, because it did not feel as if it had been she herself who spoke. Yet the feeling passed away as quickly as it had come, and she sank back into her stupor.
Éowyn looked at her, startled. "Here we are now!" she said in surprise. "Not a word all night, you with such a gift for tongues! What ails you, my friend?"
"Nothing," said Hoshi. "I am as well as can be expected, thank you." Again she felt the odd sensation of someone else speaking through her mouth, but she did not question it.
Éowyn sighed, a long, heavy breath that seemed too weary to have come from one so young. "Hoshi... please tell me what is wrong. Malcolm is worried, I am worried... you walk as though you are in a dream, like the world around you is not real."
With a great effort Hoshi spoke, without the feeling of otherness touching her voice this time. "I want to go home," she said simply, and never had such simple words been so difficult to say. Éowyn's eyes filled with tears.
"I know, dear," she said, putting her arms around Hoshi and hugging tightly. "I would like to go home, too. I know you mean your ship, but Edoras is my home and I miss it. We all miss it." She wept softly, hiding it from the frightened people around them, and her tears stained Hoshi's shirt.
Hoshi let her cry, neither weeping herself nor returning the embrace, and simply sat like a stone. At length Éowyn stopped, wiping her eyes with a corner of her sleeve; she had shed but a few tears, really, and the only sign of her fear was a slight shine in her eyes and her red cheeks. The old women cried out as a particularly loud boom shook the cave, and Éowyn went to assist them, leaving Hoshi alone at the back of the cavern.
:My dear, I have found a way to return you to your home.:
"You have?" whispered Hoshi, mindful of the people around her, though she doubted they heard; everyone was much too engaged in listening to the noises of the battle outside.
:I have. But it will be a very long journey, my dear Hoshi, so I must ask you to trust me implicitly.:
"I do," murmured Hoshi.
:There's a good child. Now you must leave the Rohan behind, for they try to conceal this way from you. They do not want you to leave. Behind you is a tunnel that leads out into the mountains. My servants will meet you there to assist you.:
Hoshi stood up and slipped away from her seat, tiptoeing over the cold stone floor of the cave. A tunnel... ah, there. Yes, a tunnel, there.
:It is straight and narrow, and there are no turns. You do not need a torch.:
She nodded and went into the darkness, keeping one finger on the wall. Something niggled at the back of her mind, but she could not recall what it could be, so she went on into the black tunnel. The light from the big cavern dimmed and finally disappeared altogether, and yet she walked still. The floor was rough and uneven, and she fell at times, but her friend had spoken truth: there were no side passages or bends to get lost in, and each time she fell, she picked herself up and went on.
For an endless time she traveled through the darkness, until she wondered if she had really ever seen light or if it was simply a strange dream that somewhere out there an entire world existed. The black night was complete.
But finally a pinpoint of light shone far ahead of her. She had to squint to make it out but as it grew steadily larger, she realized that it was indeed the end of the tunnel. It grew bigger and bigger as she walked, until suddenly she was out of the tunnel, stepping onto a rocky field where a group of Uruk-hai awaited her, hulking figures in the dim morning light. Her mind screamed at her to run, flee, do anything to get away, but her limbs would not respond.
:These are my servants,: said the voice in her head. :They will not harm you.:
:You have done well,: said another voice. :I will help you from here, child.:
Three of the Uruk-hai, their faces emblazoned with a gleaming white hand, jerked their heads up to stare at the other five, who had a red eye painted on their crudely-made armor. What was that red eye? It looked very menacing, and again Hoshi felt that there was something she had once known about it and could no longer recall. She did not even flinch as the Uruk- hai of the red eye charged the others, and ripped their enemies to shreds before her.
:You and I have much to speak of,: said the second voice. Red sparks flashed in her mind, and a great lidless eye, wreathed in flame, burned behind her eyelids. In her gut Hoshi quivered with terror but could do nothing. :The white wizard has done enough for you, but I am the only one who may help you now. You may call me Annatar, my dear. Go with the Uruk- hai. They will bring you to me.:
A feeling of warmth swept over Hoshi, and all her questions flooded from her mind. The biggest of the Uruk-hai, his lips bloody from the recent feast, swept her up and over his shoulder. Off they trotted, going east towards the part of the sky that never grew dark, though the sun's rays swept up from the east. First light of the day, it was, and yet it could not win over the shadow.
******************
Morning light broke over the ruins with a glorious blaze of white sunshine through the high, narrow windows. Archer yawned and stretched, briefly wondering where he was and then sighing as it all came flooding back. At least the rain was gone. He stood, careful not to wake any of the sleeping away team, and padded outside.
As he stood at the edge of the high tower, simply looking out at the breathtaking vista, he blinked furiously, trying to clear the dust from his eyes. Below him a thousand shadows danced at the corners of his eyes, granting him glimpses of men on horses fighting things he had no name for but monster. When he looked at them straight on, though, they vanished into nothingness, leaving him alone on the top of the battlements.
Archer sighed. As soon as he found his officers, they were getting off this screwy planet and staying off it. No more shore leave, they were just leaving. A nice long sleep in his own bed, back on ship, would be far more relaxing than this place. His nerves were already frazzled well beyond acceptable levels, and he was sure his blood pressure would get him a nice lecture from the doctor when they got back.
If he had thought his stress level was high before, it was nothing compared to the shock he got when he turned around.
"Malcolm!" he shouted, dashing forward and dropping to his knees next to the bloody, battered form of his armory officer. Blood, blood everywhere, pooled around a deep wound in the lieutenant's chest; Archer moved to try and stem the gush and frowned when his fingers met nothing but air. He waved his hand once, twice, three times over Malcolm's chest, and each time it went right through the man's chest. "What in hell?" whispered the captain, rocking back on his heels. "I'm delusional. I'm dreaming." He stared at Reed's dead body, face far too pale and chest completely still save for the now-sluggish trickle of blood. What on earth was the lieutenant wearing? Chain mail? He waved his hand through Reed's chest once more, irrationally hoping somehow that the lieutenant would solidify and then maybe magically reanimate himself.
To his very great surprise one of his wishes came true. With a great gasp Reed's chest heaved and his mouth opened, a gush of blood pouring out to join the other stains on his torso. Archer, too shocked to think, simply stood and watched as the lieutenant's eyes fluttered and color returned to his face. One pale hand twitched, and then slowly dragged itself across an expanse of chest, probing the large hole in the chain mail, beneath which there had been a deep hole in flesh but a moment ago.
"Well, that's a nasty thing," whispered Reed, clenching his jaw. "Bloody hell."
"Malcolm?" said Archer, wanting to say something else but afraid that he would only gibber in shock if he tried, "Malcolm? What the hell?" Whoops. Failed at that.
Reed's eyes widened and he struggled to sit up, gazing in utter bemusement at his captain. "Sir!" he gasped, going pale. "Captain Archer!" He looked around, eyes touching on things which remained invisible to the captain's eyes, and then back at the man kneeling next to him. "I can see right through you, Captain," whispered the lieutenant. "What are you? A dream? I should be dead... I was dead. I felt it go right through me, sir... And such things I saw..."
He stared down at his hands, clenched in his lap, and then looked back at the captain. Archer did not like the look he saw in Reed's eyes---something was different about the man. He was not the armory officer he had been two days ago, and though Archer could not know it, he was not even the man whose eyes Aragorn had gently closed a world away.
"Malcolm, stay here. Trip's here, we'll get you out of this fix and you can tell us everything that's happened to you," said Archer firmly, desperately. "That's an order, Lieutenant."
"Oh, it is an order, Captain," said Reed, standing up. "And one which I would obey."
"Trip!" shouted Archer. "Trip, get out here right now!"
Reed's blue eyes twinkled with a merriness Archer had only a few times ever seen in them, and never to such a degree. Trip, hair mussed and rubbing sleep from his eyes, stumbled quickly from the doorway of their night's sanctuary and stopped dead, staring at the translucent figure before him. "Malcolm?" he asked incredulously, voice heavy with fear and incomprehension. "My God, what's happened to you, buddy?"
What had happened to him? Archer wanted desperately to ask but his lips and tongue were dry; the words simply would not come. Reed smiled at them both, a kindly smile that looked out of place on him---it was a smile that the old, fierce Malcolm would never have let cross his face.
"I have not lived long enough to remember what I know," said Malcolm softly. "And I have lived too long to remember all that I have done." He stood looking at them, and it seemed to their eyes that he grew paler in the morning sunlight. Sunlight shone through his face, casting him away into eternity; light as a swan's feather he was, and if he should fall, he would float upon the wind.
"My place is, for the moment, no longer with you, my friends," Reed said, a touch of sadness coloring his voice. "I become something that I am not, yet have always been. I ride in the shadow of the great deeds that must be done, of the great ones who must come into their power now."
Into thin air he faded, drifting out of their sight, until only his voice remained to reach their ears. Trip and Archer stood mesmerized as the wind eddied around them. "I have been sent back---for a brief time, until my task is done, my friends. Faint to my ears comes the gathered rumor of all lands: the springing and the dying, the song and the weeping, and the slow everlasting groan of overburdened stone. And so I pass away from you, my friends... Look to the Black Tower, for there shall be my reckoning and the pivot upon which this war shall turn."
And he was gone.
"What in the hell just happened?" murmured Trip after a very long moment of stunned silence.
"If I knew I'd tell you," replied Archer, still staring at the paving stones where his armory officer had vanished before his eyes. "The one thing I understood in all of that was that he was going to a Black Tower."
"And what does that mean?" grumbled Tucker. "Seems just as mystifying as the rest of it, Jon!"
Archer shook his head slowly. "No," he said, and went back into the room where the security officers were putting together a make-shift breakfast from ready-to-eat rations. Trip followed him as he picked his way through their sleeping bags and their packs to the pile of papers laying just beyond Archer's own knapsack. He sifted through the papers until he found the unreadable map, with such a careful drawing of the fortress they currently occupied on it.
"Look," he said, gently running his finger over the ancient paper, "the Black Tower."
Sketched in miniature, a fearsome tower rose from the foothills inside a curiously rectangular mountain range, a foreboding little drawing with a great eye sketched at the apex of the black spire.
"The Black Tower," said Trip, staring in awe over Archer's shoulder.
Archer replied, "The Black Tower indeed."
***********************
Well....I was tempted to be cruel and leave this part until next chapter but then this one would have been too short. What's in store for our intrepid armory officer? Keep reading... I know...and you might, too, if you're clever enough to read the signs.